


The Ones We Leave Behind

by CLeighWrites



Series: Wincest Big Bang 2018 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boy King!Sam, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, First Time Bottoming, Frottage, Kidnapping, M/M, Rimming, Semi-Slow Burn, Wincest Big Bang 2018, dubcon, pinning!Dean, sexually inappropriate use of telekinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-05 12:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites
Summary: When John Winchester dies, leaving Dean with a terrible secret about Sammy, Dean has to come to terms with what to do with that new information. He also has to carry the weight of what that means might have to happen with the fact that he is in love with his baby brother. New cases break the illusion that the world of hunting monsters is purely black and white and secrets are revealed. Dean’s got the world on his shoulders; can he handle the added pressure?





	The Ones We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of season 2, for the Wincest impaired, with a tragic twist ending.  
> Check it out on Tumblr, (@wicked-wincest-writer) to see the artwork done by @lizellysking!

The sun is shining high in the sky; it's warm, but the breeze makes it tolerable. The tops of the trees sway, and a murder of crows fly high overhead. It's a perfect day, or it would have been.

Dean stands there in the clearing, feeling nothing; feeling less than nothing, numb. His eyes never leave the fire, he watches humorlessly as the tiny pieces of linen spark off to do their own burning dance on the breeze; but they never leave the center of the pyre. His eyes have long since dried up, and he’s not sure if he is even capable of speaking, but he knows he has to say something, anything.

“Dammit Sammy. It was never supposed to end this way,” the words grate their way out of his vice-like throat, Dean barely recognizing his own voice.

****

Dean was glad that he couldn’t remember the time he had spent with that Reaper. He wished he could forget everything that had happened in that damn hospital. Sammy and their Dad had been fighting again, just before he-

Then he had to go and make that damn deal with that yellow-eyed demon, leaving Dean with a terrible burden that he would never be able to live down.

He was pissed; pissed at Sam for fighting with Dad instead of helping him find another way to save him, pissed at himself for letting it get that far in the first place, and, most of all, he was pissed at Dad. How could he- how could he say all of that chick-flick shit, tell him to watch out for Sammy, and then tell him that he would have to-

If Sammy could just stop asking if Dean was okay. Just let him fix up Baby and get everything back to the way it was before. Just him and his baby brother on the road, saving people, hunting things, the way it should be. No matter how many times he tried to tell him, the kid just wouldn’t give up; and every time Dean looked at him- no he wouldn’t think about that, he couldn’t think about that.

“Alright, Dean. It’s just...we’ve been at Bobby’s for over a week now and you haven’t brought up Dad once.”

If he hadn’t have been trying to dodge him, Dean probably would have realized that Sammy was needing him, just as much as he was trying not to need Sammy.

“You know what, you’re right,” _it’s better to keep him at arm’s length_ , “come here. I’m going to lay my head gently on your shoulder,” _if only I could_ , “maybe we could cry, hug, maybe even slow dance.” It killed Dean just to say it, and even more to see the hurt look on his brother’s face.

“Don’t patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead! The colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this; and you’re acting like nothing happened.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“Say something, alright? Hell, say anything!” Dean bit back his remark, Sam kept letting him have it. Hell, he deserved it, “Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car!”

“Revenge, huh?” Dean couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Yeah,” Sammy always sounded so hopeful; _where does he get it from?_

“Sounds good,” Dean pursed his lips together, gathering himself, “Ya got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails on any of Dad’s research? ‘Cause I sure ain’t. Do you know what? When we do finally find it- oh, no wait, like you said, ‘the colt is gone.’ But I’m sure you’ve figured out another way to kill it,” God, if he could just make himself stop before he really does push Sammy away for good, _that might just be for the best_ , “We’ve got nothing, Sam, nothing okay? So, you know what the only thing I can do is? I can work on the car.”

Sam huffed and turned to leave, he paused like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it, and walked back across the yard toward the house. Dean had hoped that he would say something, anything, to shake him out of his own vicious mental merry-go-round he had put himself on.

He had secretly hoped that it would take them a while to find that son of a bitch demon; the longer it took them, the longer he got to keep his baby brother around. While Sam was at Stanford, Dean had grown to realize how much he had relied on Sammy always being there when they were growing up. He took for granted every minute of it, and when Sam had left him to go to fucking college? To try to get a life away from hunting, away from monsters, away from _him; well, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing...for Sam_.

****

Once Dean couldn’t stand the turmoil of his own mind, or lift his arms over his head anymore, he came inside to take a long, hot shower and, maybe, eat something. He was rubbing some extra grease off on his jeans as he walked in through the back door, and, before he could close it, he heard Sam talking to Bobby.

“I don’t want to go back to school. I don’t want regular. I want this.”

“If you’re sure Sam. If that’s what you really want.” Dean had definitely walked in on something.

“It is, I can’t leave hi-,” Sam cut himself off when he looked up and saw Dean standing in the doorway.

Dean made a show of shutting the door as if he had just walked in.

“Dean,” Sam started, but quickly averted his eyes.

“Sammy, Bobby; I interrupt something?”

“Nope,” Sam jumped up from the table and went into the den.

Bobby just shook his head. “How’s the car comin’?”

“Slow, but she’s coming.” Bobby nodded and went back to his beer, Dean always loved that Bobby was a man of few words.

When Dean came up behind him, Sam almost jumped out of his skin.

“Easy there, Tiger.” Dean had never seen Sammy look so startled, even on a hunt. “What’s up, Sammy?”

“Nothing,” _lie_.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“What you just said to Bobby. That whole, uh, ‘I don’t want to go back to school’ thing. Were you just saying that to him or were you, you know, saying it?” Sam turned back to look at the books on the shelf. “Sam?”

“I don’t know?”

Dean felt the smallest flicker of hope build in his chest.

“You don’t know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State.” He couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped its way into his voice.

“I’m having second thoughts.”

“Really?” Dean absolutely couldn’t handle any false hope right now.

“Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.” Of course this would be about Dad and not him; Sammy’s not as fucked up as he is.

Even knowing that it wasn’t right, Dean still snapped, “Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn’t want, Sam.”

“Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?”

No, his problem was with his baby brother not wanting to stick around because of him, “Naw, I don’t have a problem at all.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay,” Dean wasn’t about to try to say anything else, so he left Sammy there looking downright dumbfounded and headed upstairs to get in the shower.

Once in the safety of the bathroom, Dean allowed himself to breathe, it was more of a shuttering noise as he willed the tears not to fall. He stripped down and cranked the water on as hot as it would go. After the steam filled the room, he stepped in, letting the hot water wash over him and seep into his bones. He tried not to think, just let himself focus on the soap getting all the grit and grease off of him, and letting the hot water ease his tired muscles.

As he was washing his face, with his eyes squeezed shut, all he could see was Sammy. Sammy’s still slightly rounded cheeks, the curve of his eyebrows leading down to the slope of his nose, his perfectly pink, thin lips. The Sammy in his head was in the sunlight, the sun glinting in his brown hair, his tanned skin seeming to glow in the light, and his smile was bright enough to block out the sun. Dean loved the way his left dimple always popped out before the right one when he’d smile big enough. He made it his mission to test it out, see if it was just his imagination, or if that’s just how he smiled every time.

By the time Dean’s hands got down to wash his waist, he was hard, the hot water and soap suds doing nothing to help the situation. He kept his eyes screwed shut and gripped himself hard at the base. The guilt was just as comfortable now as the insatiable need to jerk it while thinking about his baby brother. As he fisted himself, he thought about what it would be like to have Sammy’s lips around him instead of his own hand, the look he’d have in his eyes when he would look up at him, what it would feel like to nudge the back of his throat and have his baby brother choke around his cock. He grunted as he came hard and stroked himself through it; hating himself just a little more, as always.

He finished washing and rinsed off just as the hot water ran out. He ran the towel over his head and body before wrapping it around his hips. He opened the door, stepped out, and came chest to chest with Sammy, almost dropping his towel.

“Oh, sorry, Sammy,” he muttered at the same time Sammy said, “Whoa, Dean.”

Dean grabbed his towel tighter around his waist, just in case, and he tried to step around Sam just as he tried to step aside to let Dean by, their hips bumping into each other. “Pick a side Sammy,” Dean said, getting a little frustrated despite his recent release.

“Okay,” Sam laughed, his left dimple showing itself, as he stepped to the other side motioning for Dean to pass. “I came up here to tell you, we’ve got a case, so whenever you get ready,” Sam motioned to the towel with his head, “meet us downstairs.”

“Yeah, okay,” he watched as Sam went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Dean turned and went into his designated room to get dressed. He chastised himself as he shoved his legs into his briefs, just like always. He knew he shouldn’t think about Sammy like that, God knows he’d tried to bang it out of his system with every girl that would give him eyes in every town they’d ever been to; it always came back to his goddamn baby brother. He slammed his bowed legs into his jeans, sat on his bed and put his head in his hands.

He tried desperately not to think about what Dad had told him; how the way he had said to look after Sammy this time was so much different than all the times before. He rubbed his palm down his face, and got up, zipped and buttoned his jeans, and walked over to his dresser. He grabbed a dark grey henley, stuck his arms through the sleeves, then pulled it the rest of the way on. He ran his hands through his hair; man, he had to snap out of it, focus. There was a hunt.

Since he was already there, he packed his bag before heading back downstairs. He realized as he was closing up his bag that he had picked all grey and blue shirts, the same colors that Sammy’s eyes had been more of recently. That fucking kid and his chameleon eyes, constantly changing colors. He chuckled to himself under his breath as he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed downstairs.

****

Bobby had heard, from a hunter friend of his, that there was a vamp nest causing some trouble in Red Lodge, Montana, so Dean and Sammy agreed to check it out. Dean was not happy about having to borrow a mini-van off the yard, but it was the only thing Bobby had that was running.

Dean was trying to pay attention to what Sammy was saying without paying too much attention to _how_ he was saying it. The way he gestures, and how his lips curl up when he finds something funny or interesting; it was almost too much for him to handle. Not only had Dean been given a horrible burden by their dad, but he’d also lost one too, when he died.

He didn’t have to feel ashamed to be himself anymore, he didn’t have to be the perfect son, didn’t have to stay in check at all times; Dean was allowed to feel again. When he was able to be completely honest with himself, Dean realized that he loved Sammy in more than a brotherly way, and that’s why what his Dad had told him killed him that much more, each and every day; and here he was sitting inches away from his baby brother, with this horrible knowledge of a possibility and an unyielding urge to wrap him up in his arms and never let go, _‘watch out for Sammy.’_

“Don’t get all maudlin on me, man.”

_Shit, did I miss something important?_ “What do you mean?”

“I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it’s crap.”

“Oh, god.”

“I’m over it. This isn’t just anyone we’re talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

When had Sam started not talking about the vamps? Sam had no idea how Dean was feeling about Dad right now, shit, _he_ didn’t even know how he felt about him. “You know what, back off, all right? Just because I’m not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

“No, no, no, that’s not what this is about, Dean. I don’t care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I’m your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He exhaled loudly, concern and something else accenting his words.

“Dude, I’m okay.” Sam gave him a face, “I’m okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I’m okay, I’m gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!”

Sam looked surprised at that. “What are you talking about?”

“I just think it’s really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It’s like, ‘oh, what would Dad want me to do?’ Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he’s dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I’m sorry Sam, but you can’t, it’s too little, too late.” Dean’s grip tightened on the wheel and he stared holes into the asphalt ahead of the car as they sped down the road.

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this,” _like I wish I could be_ , “I’m dealing with Dad’s death. Are you?”

Dean watched Sam’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and turned to look out the window. Maybe what he said was a little harsh, but Dean just wasn’t able to deal with Dad’s death, what he had told him about Sammy, and his seemingly rekindled feelings for his baby brother. It was too much for one guy to handle; _one thing at a time_.

Sammy was quiet for a long time, but Dean didn’t want to make things any worse, so he didn’t turn the radio up right away. When a sign came up for Red Lodge at 300 miles out, Dean cleared his throat and reached for the volume dial.

****

It was easy enough to get some intel on the vamps once Sam slipped a fifty dollar bill to the bartender. When they left the bar however, they noticed that someone was following them, and that’s that’s how they met Gordon. Sammy had tried to tell Dean that Gordon was bad news, but he just wouldn’t listen. Dean would never admit it to Sammy, but he had been right when he said that being around Gordon was a little like having their dad back. Obviously, nothing could bring him back, and nobody could replace John Winchester, not even Bobby, but having someone else who was in the life and could understand what they were going through was something Dean didn’t realize he needed. Of course, Gordon turned out to be totally bat-shit crazy, and not in a fun weekend-locked-in-a-cheap-motel-room kind of way.

Sam had tried to warn him over and over, but Dean was stubborn, and was hating himself more and more as time went on. Hating himself for what he wanted to do to, and with, his baby brother, what he thought that he should be able to do now that their dad wasn’t there to judge and reprimand him for having such dark desires. Once, when Sammy was trying to get through to Dean, he couldn’t control himself any longer and Dean had punched him right in the jaw. That was something else Dean had started to hate about himself; he felt like he was pushing his brother further and further away. However, every now and then, Dean would catch Sammy looking at him, just looking; but the look in his eyes made Dean’s blood boil and his jeans get uncomfortably tight.

They had, and Dean couldn’t believe this was even something to say, saved the vampires, and decided to leave Gordon to stew in his own juices and contemplate life in that abandoned farmhouse. He and Dean had beat each other to a pulp, which was just what Dean had needed, although he wasn’t really sure why, but it felt good to all-out-fight with someone who could hold their own.

As they were leaving the farmhouse, Dean couldn’t get that punch out of his head, replaying that betrayed look on Sammy’s face over and over again.

“Sam?” He waited until he knew he had Sam’s attention, bracing himself for the strike. “Clock me one.”

“What?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

“Come on. I won’t even hit you back.”

Sam just looked at him like he had taken too many hits to the head, which he probably had. “Let’s go,” Dean hadn’t realized just how much he had needed this.

“No.”

“Let’s go, you get a freebie.” Sam just shook his head. “Hit me, come on.” He really needed to settle the score, he couldn’t handle any more guilt.

“You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean,” he chuckled as he made his way back to the van. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

Sammy walked around to the passenger side of the minivan, but Dean stopped before he opened his door, stepping forward to lean against the windshield. “I wish we never took this job. It’s jacked everything up.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

_Damn Sammy’s pretty, leaning on the windshield like the Adonis giant he is_.

“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives,” Dean didn’t even want to finish that thought.

“Okay,” Sam didn't seem to see where this was heading; Dean really was going to have to spell it out for the kid.

“What if we killed things that didn’t deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us….”

Sam took a second to really process what Dean was trying to tell him, “Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.”

“I know he did.” That wasn’t really the issue, and it did little to qualm Dean’s rising guilt. “But, the man wasn’t perfect. The way he raised us, to hate those things, and man, I hate ‘em, I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn’t even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.” _But that vamp wasn’t your baby brother, Deano_.

“You didn’t kill Lenore.” The way Sam said it was like he had believed he wouldn’t have.

“No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill ‘em all.” _But not your baby brother, you’re gonna do whatever you can do to save him_.

“Yeah, Dean, but you didn’t. And that’s what matters.”

“Yeah,” _I just hope that’s enough Sammy_ , “well, ‘cause you’re a pain in my ass.”

Sammy smirked at that and looked Dean straight in the eye, “Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.”

_Was that...innuendo?_ “Thanks.” _What else can you say to that?_

Sammy grinned that time, that damn lop-sided, puppy dog smirk, “Don’t mention it.” Sammy opened his door then and climbed in, waiting for Dean to follow suit.

Dean had to take a beat before getting in, thinking about everything they had just done, and talked about, and maybe what they hadn’t _actually_ talked about. He had to have imagined that his baby brother, _Sammy_ , had just _hit on him_. Taking a mind clearing breath, he opened his door, climbed in, started up the loaner van, and drove off down the dirt road onto the next gig.

****

Dean was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the job these days. They had dealt with zombies, a serial killer ghost, actual honest-to-God crossroads Demons, a demonic virus that drove an entire town into a murderous rage but didn't effect Sammy, and they found out that there were more psychic kids that the yellow-eyed demon had messed with for whatever reason. The crossroad demon job especially had Dean on edge. The man that they had found who had called the damned thing, George Darrow, he didn’t want to be saved. He blamed himself for all those others who had made deals and whose time was up.

Dean had gone a little off the rails, thinking that their dad had made a deal to save Dean’s life. How he had made the choice for them to live and carry on the family business while he was who knows where, being held captive or tortured or worse. Even though Sammy had warned him not to, he had gone after the crossroads demon that had made the deal with George, and found out, once and for all, about the deal that had been made to save his life. She had told him that their dad was in Hell being tortured relentlessly, and that she could have brought him back if he had made the deal. Now, not only did Dean have to live with the knowledge that his dad had made a deal for him, but that he could have brought him back and didn’t.

Sammy had made friends with a psychic girl, Ava, that had found him, but she had disappeared. When they went to go find her, they found her _fiancé_ bloodied and dead in the bed with sulfur on the windowsill.

Dean tried not to read into it, but Sammy had slept in the bed with him that night. It was hard, but they didn’t touch; they hadn’t shared a bed since Sammy had his first major growth spurt when he was fifteen, and they were both quite a bit bigger now than they had been back then. Dean just figured that Sam needed to be close. The whole situation probably brought up some old Jess feelings and Sammy just needed to know that he wasn’t alone, and that not everyone that he was close to left him.

When they had woken up the next morning, Sam’s arm was under Dean’s neck and their other hands were intertwined between them. Dean had come to first and did everything that he could to not move and disturb the moment. That could have very well been the only time he could have that, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

The sunlight peeking in through the curtains had backlit Sam’s hair and given him a golden halo, and Dean took the time to memorize how youthful his brother looked while he slept. No worry lines between his brows, no haunted look in his eyes, he was just his baby brother again. It was only a couple minutes before Sam jerked awake and pulled away from Dean, mumbling his apology; Dean had pretended that he had just woken him up and said that he didn’t know what he was talking about. Later that day Dean’s guilt had won out and he told Sam about what their dad had told him before he died; how he was supposed to keep an eye out for him and that he might have to kill him one day. Understandably, Sammy got pissed, asking questions that Dean had asked himself a hundred times since they left the hospital. Did Dad know what the demons plans were? Did he know what was going to happen to Sam? of course, neither of them had any way of getting the answers they needed.

Now they were in a haunted hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut where something was killing people who were helping to shut the place down. The lady who owned the hotel, Susan, had assumed that they were antiquing, so they went with that; but then she assumed they were a couple and had suggested a king bed, and _Sammy_ accepted it for them.

Dean was speechless, barely able to concentrate enough to offer to carry his weapons bag for the old concierge who was dragging it up the stairs. Dean whistled after they got in their room and took a look around. There was a creepy old wedding dress haphazardly hung on the wall and the bed was on one of those old timey, ornate, brass bed frames. There was wood paneling on the walls and in the bathroom and all of the furniture was that antique, twisted-looking dark wood. It could have been worse, hell, they had grown up in dumps worse than this. This place might as well have been the Hilton. Dean made a mental note of the mini-fridge before suggesting they start looking around the place.

They split up after a little digging around, Sammy going back to the room to do the nerd thing and research some stuff while Dean looked around some more to see what he could find. When he got back in from snooping around the grounds, he saw emergency lights in the front of the building. When he got to the front door, Susan told him how the maid had found the lawyer, who had brought the papers for her to sign for the sale, hanging in his room. She offered a full refund if they wanted to leave, but Dean assured her that he didn’t scare that easy.

When he got back to their room, the door was ajar and the key was still in the lock. He walked in and went straight to his bag to check for supplies and alert Sam to the new development in the case.

“There’s been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room.”

Sam mumbled something that sounded like, “Yeah, I saw.”

Dean was rifling through his bag, still not even sure of what they were up against and what they would need. “We’ve gotta figure this out, and fast. What’d you find out about Granny?”

Sammy spoke up this time, “You’re bossy.”

Dean turned to look at him, “What?”

“You’re bossy,” he repeated, “and short.” He laughed at his own observation like it was a joke.

“Are you drunk?” Dean couldn’t believe it, right now, in the middle of a case, his baby brother decides to get smashed.

“Yeah...so?” Dean turned to inspect the mini fridge situation, seeing various bottles out on the side table, then Sam added, “Stupid.”

“Dude, what were you thinking? We’re working a case.”

Sam’s face immediately fell and his eyes watered up. “That guy who hung himself. I couldn’t save him.”

Dean couldn’t believe that’s what had him so upset, it’s not like it was the first time they’d lost someone before solving a case. “What are you talking about? You didn’t know, you couldn’t have done anything.”

Sammy looked heartbroken and resolute at the same time when he looked up at Dean next, stating, “That’s an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean couldn’t take his baby brother so downtrodden and walked right up to him, “you can’t save everyone. Even you said that.”

Sam slammed his fist down on the table next to the chair that he was occupying, startling Dean. “No, Dean, you don’t understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change.”

“Change what?”

He leaned forward, a little wobbly, and pointed to himself, “My destiny, Dean!”

Dean had never seen his brother look so absolutely broken. He should have never told him about what their dad had said, “Alright, time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” He bent over and pulled Sammy to his feet, “Come on.”

As he was standing up, Sam said, “I need you to watch out for me.”

As if that wasn’t Dean’s whole purpose in life. “Yeah, I always do.”

“No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me,” he looked so serious, “all right? And if I ever...turn into something I’m not,” Dean couldn’t have thought such a thing could be possible, “you have to kill me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam….”

Sammy grabbed him so that he was looking at him again. “Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to.”

Sam knew that Dean had always been loyal and obedient to their father, but this was where he drew the line. “Yeah, well, Dad’s an ass!” Sammy looked at him like he had lost his mind, “He never should have said anything. I mean, you don’t do that, you don’t, you don’t lay that kind of crap on your kids.”

Sam looked like he couldn’t believe what Dean was saying. “No, he was right to say it! Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!”

“Well, I’m not dying, okay?” Dean grabbed Sam’s shirt and led him over to the bed, “And neither are you. Come on, Sit down.”

Sam sat down on the bed but latched onto his arms, Dean grabbing his shirt tighter as a reflex. “No, please! Dean, you’re the only one that can do it,” _this kid is gonna break my heart_ , “Promise.”

Dean could barely speak. “Don’t ask that of me.”

Sammy looked like he was about to break down. “Dean, please. You have to promise me.”

Dean held his brother’s eye for a long time, but Sammy never wavered. _How could I ever say ‘no’ to you Sammy?_ “I promise.” It felt like sandpaper in his throat. Dean took little solace in the fact that Sam was probably too drunk to remember his vow after he sobered up.

“Thanks,” Dean’s heart broke with the sincerity in Sam’s voice. Then his heart stopped when Sam took in a deep breath and grabbed his face with both hands, mere inches away. It was almost as if he was going to kiss him, then he exhaled and repeated himself, “Thank you. You are-”

Dean couldn’t take it anymore so he grabbed his brother’s hands and removed them from his face “Alright, come on,” and he pushed him over to lie down.

Sam went down without a fight and rolled over onto his stomach, his shirt rising a bit to show his trim waist as he settled himself. Dean sat down at his brother’s feet and wiped a hand over his face and through his hair. There was too much for him to process right now. Had he really just promised his baby brother that he would kill him? Had his baby brother just about kissed him for making that promise? There were two things Dean knew for sure - he couldn’t be in that room with his fully inebriated little brother, and he needed a drink.

Dean made his way downstairs and found what looked to have been a ballroom that had been turned into a bar and dining area. The old concierge, Sherwin, was at the bar. They shared a drink together and Dean got him to tell him some more about the history of the place. While they were looking at pictures, Dean noticed some hoodoo symbols on the grandmother’s nanny’s apron. While Sherwin was telling him more, Dean started forming a more solid idea about what they were dealing with, and it had everything to do with Granny.

After politely wishing Sherwin a goodnight and thanking him for the tour, Dean headed back to their room where he hoped to find a very completely passed out little brother. He was mostly right. When he walked in, Sammy had stripped down to just his boxer briefs and was half out and half under the sheet, back on his stomach. He had made the slightest noise when the light from the hallway made its way to the bed, but he was motionless otherwise.

Dean got ready for bed and got in on the other side, trying not to disturb his drunkenly passed out bedmate. He hadn’t been laying there long when Sammy found him and settled in next to him, only this time he drapped his arm around Dean’s waist and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck. He hated himself, but he didn’t move or try to push Sammy off of him, he savored the moment. Sam was probably just having some long lost dream about Jess and wanted to snuggle, no harm, no foul. Sammy’s breath was hot on his neck and when his grip tightened around his waist, Dean’s dick responded urgently.

Even with his literally pressing issue, Dean couldn’t bring himself to disturb whatever dream his brother was having, and then it happened. He refused to believe it the first time, and then it happened again, a breathy “De,” left his brother’s lips and tickled his neck, causing goosebumps to form all over his body and his ‘pressing issue’ to press even more. He refused to move or even breathe, and then Sammy nuzzled deeper into Dean’s neck and spoke again, “De, you smell good.”

Dean had convinced himself at this point that he was the one dreaming. There was no way in hell that his sweet, baby brother, Sammy, was actually snuggling with him, nor was he having a sex dream about _him_. He refused to allow himself to hope, and when the pressure of his cock became too much, he started to palm himself through the material of his boxers. He tried not to move the rest of his body, so that he didn’t wake up Sammy; this was by far the best wet dream he was ever going to have, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Dean had barely started a steady pace when Sammy’s hand began to wander lower down his torso, resting on his hip, his thumb rubbing gentle patterns onto the sensitive flesh above the bend of his leg. Dean froze, mostly because he couldn’t continue to pleasure himself with Sammy’s hand so close to where his was, but also because he wasn’t so sure Sammy was still sleeping. His breath was coming faster and his movements seemed less and less like sleepy caresses, they were more self aware.

Dean held his breath when he felt Sammy’s face move on his neck and jerked when he felt his baby brother’s hot, soft lips pull his ear lobe into his mouth. Sammy’s grip tightened on his hip when he tried to move away, after a lifetime of hidden desires and keeping his distance, Dean couldn’t help the reflex.

“De?”

Dean stilled and cleared his throat. “Yeah, Sammy?” He still couldn’t believe that he was awake.

“Don’t you want me?” It was such a filthy, innocent question and it made Dean ache in more than one way. He couldn’t take advantage of his baby brother like this.

His voice broke, unable to lie to his brother, but unwilling to admit the truth either, “Sammy….”

Sammy’s fingers dipped under the waistband of his briefs and began to trail their way down, and his mouth latched onto his pulse. Dean couldn’t think straight, the rest of his blood rushing south, and his brain was fuzzy from the whiskey and endorphins; he knew he should stop this, but it had been his lifelong dream, and, after all the crap he’s had to go through, why couldn’t he allow himself this one thing.

_It’s not like you started it_ , “Sammy,” it was more of a contented moan than anything else, but his baby brother took it as an invitation, and, when Dean turned to look him in the eye, Sammy’s mouth was on his before he could even suck in a breath, just as his hand shot further down and wrapped around his aching cock.

Sammy kissed Dean like they had been doing it their entire lives; their tongues dancing together in a perfect rhythm while their lips battled for dominance. Dean wasn’t at all surprised when his baby brother rolled to position himself over him, and he would gladly take what he was given. He was being fisted skillfully by his beautiful brother, who he had been dreaming of since before he knew what dreaming was, and, at this new angle, he could return the favor. Dean pulled Sammy’s briefs down to below his ass and took his time feeling his way around to grab his cock for the first time. Dean wanted to sear this memory into his brain so that he could carry it with him forever, he would never forget it; their first time being with each other this way.

Sammy groaned into his mouth as Dean wrapped his fingers around his significant length and began to stroke, teasing his leaking head with a purposeful swipe every few strokes. _This is your fucking baby brother_.

“Mmmm, De,” Sammy moaned into the crook of Dean’s neck and whatever thoughts he was about to have were silenced by the neediness in his brother’s voice.

“I got you baby brother,” Sammy’s dick twitched at the title and Dean filed that away on his list of things to keep doing.

Sammy grew impatient and pulled away from Dean who let out a surprisingly unmanly groan at the loss of contact, but when his brother took his briefs off the rest of the way, Dean followed suit and, before he could feel the coolness of the room again, Sammy was straddling him. Dean had about a million alarms going off in his head at the sight of his brother’s thighs wrapped around his; _this is so wrong, oh god, is he going to fuck me, you’re going straight to Hell, this is probably what Dad was talking about, he’s drunk, he’ll regret and resent you in the morning_. However all of those alarms were obliterated when Sammy licked his palm, lined their cocks up together, and began pumping like his life depended on it. Dean’s head rolled back and he had to focus on not bucking his hips, should Sammy lose his balance and topple over.

Dean couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, but the blissed out look on his baby brother’s face while he stroked them to their climaxes together was so much more than he had ever imagined. Sammy’s eyes were brighter than the stars when he looked down at him, his left dimple refused to disappear, and his shaggy puppy dog hair was hanging beautifully in front of his face and somehow not blocking his eyes from scouring Dean’s face. Dean’s bottom lip was sore from where he couldn’t stop worrying it, trying his damndest to not scream out Sammy’s name and wake the entire hotel.

“Fuck, baby brother…”

“Mmm, De...wanted this...for so long.”

Dean reveled in that thought, and embarrassingly too soon, he was coming with a strained grunt, all over his baby brother’s cock and fingers. After only a few more strokes, Sammy followed suit, his face flushing and cock swelling against Dean’s; everything was so new and so beautiful and so very much like perfection. Sam tried to collect their combined spendings with his hand and rolled over, letting it all pool on his stomach. Dean chuckled to himself and got up to get a wet washcloth for them to wipe off with. When he got back Sammy was snoring softly, still lying on his back. Dean cleaned them both off, threw the soiled rag back toward the bathroom, and crawled back into bed, covering them both with a sheet. Before he settled in to sleep, Dean took what could be his last opportunity to kiss his sleeping baby brother on the lips, which earned him a sleepy grin and incoherent reciprocation.

Dean awoke early and well rested the following morning and left his still sleeping brother to go get coffee. When he got back to the room, the bed was in shambles and Sammy was moaning over the toilet.

Dean laughed to himself, still in a fantastic mood from the previous night’s development. “How you feeling, Sammy?” he said it obnoxiously loud, earning another groan from his suffering baby brother. “I guess mixing whisky and Jager wasn’t such a gangbuster idea, was it?” Unable to help himself he added, “I’ll bet you don’t remember a thing from last night, do you?”

Sammy groaned again, “Oh, I can still taste the tequila.”

Dean laughed again at that, but he was unsure of how to take the non-answer, “You know, there’s a really good hangover remedy - it’s a, it’s a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray.”

Sammy retched behind him, “Oh, I hate you.”

“I know you do,” Dean was grateful that at least nothing seemed to have changed too much between them after their drunken activities, but he couldn’t quite say that he was relieved by it. “Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace.”

“So, you think she taught Rose hoodoo?”

“Yes, I do.” Dean was very proud that he seemed to have figured out the case while Sam had been searching for the bottom of a bottle.

“All right,” Sam stood and lumbered to the bathroom door, “I think it’s time we talked to Rose, then.”

“Oh,” Dean caught a whiff of Sam’s breath and lurched away, “You can brush your teeth first.”

It turned out that Dean had only been half right about Grandma Rose, she had been using hoodoo, but it was in order to keep her psycho, ghost sister under control. In the course of one day, they got themselves kicked out of the hotel and saved Susan and her daughter from the psycho kid ghost. Unfortunately, it looked as though Grandma Rose was actually the one that saved the kid by sacrificing herself. Dean figured the sister just wanted someone to keep her company in that big, old house forever. Dean could only imagine being in the same situation with Sammy.

After the coroner came and gathered up Grandma Rose, they made sure to check with Susan’s daughter that she wasn’t still seeing the sister-ghost. They said their goodbyes and walked back over to the Impala. Dean laughed at the way Susan hugged Sammy goodbye. The kid looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Think you could have hooked up some MILF action there, bud. I’m serious, I think she liked you.”

“Yeah, that’s all she needs.”

“Well, you saved the mom, you saved the girl. Not a bad day. ‘Course, you know, I could have saved ‘em myself, but I didn’t want you to feel useless.”

Sammy laughed at that. “Alright, I appreciate it.”

“Feels good, getting back in the saddle, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. But it doesn’t change what we talked about last night, Dean.”

Dean felt the color leave his face, he wasn’t ready for this conversation yet. “We talked about a lot of things last night.”

Sam looked him straight in the eye, “You know what I mean.”

_I don’t believe this_ , “You were wasted.”

“But you weren’t, and you promised.” Dean didn’t know what to say to that; he and Sam maintained eye contact until Sam opened his door and got into his side of the car. When Dean got in behind the wheel, he tried hard not to stare at his brother. He still wasn’t sure if Sammy remembered what had happened later that night. If Sammy had remembered, surely he would have wanted to talk about it, so he must have been blacked out, which was just as fine with Dean; he would savor that memory for the rest of his life.

**** **** ****

It had been months. Three months to be exact, and Dean still couldn't believe how happy he was. He got to be with his baby brother, in every possible way they could be together.

As it turned out, Sammy did remember what they had done in that haunted motel, and he didn't bring it up because he had thought that Dean had just humored him because he was so drunk and desperate. It wasn't until Dean got just as drunk as Sam had been that he confessed his true feelings.

It had been strange at first, going from brothers to lovers, but only because they had both suppressed their desires for so many years that it took time for them both to realize they didn't have to anymore. If Dean wanted to grab Sammy's ass while he was bent over brushing his teeth, he could. If Sammy wanted to curl into Dean's side while they slept, he now knew that Dean would welcome him with open arms. Everything was different now, and Dean couldn't be happier.

The cases they worked were mostly ghosts: one had been conning people into killing people in order to get into Heaven, some had been enslaved to kill people working on a movie in Hollywood, then there had been one woman who didn't even know she had been dead for twenty years, and another who was killing men in prison.

One case in particular almost threw Dean into a full fledged panic attack. They were in Ohio, looking into the death of a prominent teacher on a college campus, when some other really weird things happened. They had called Bobby in to help them figure it out, but that hadn't been the only thing he had figured out. The thing they were hunting had turned out to be a trickster who had managed to get Dean and Sam so wound up about each other that their newly established relationship was on full display.

To both of their surprise, Bobby was not at all shocked that they were sleeping together, which was evident by the single queen bed in their room, nor that they were sleeping together, which was proven by their bickering. It didn't take Bobby long at all to figure out exactly what was going on with the case, as well as between the two of them.

Both Dean and Sam were relieved to learn that Bobby had always suspected that there was more to the two of them than just being close brothers. He had told them that even when Sammy was just a baby, the way Dean would revolve around him was like something he had never seen another kid do; it was more than just a big brother protecting his baby brother. He told them that he had suspicions of them being soul mates, but there wasn't quite enough in the lore to confirm that theory.

Even though Dean refused to admit in believing in such things, he rather liked the idea of Sammy and him being soul mates. It meant that it was meant to be, and that he wasn't fucked up for wanting his baby brother the way that he did. Just because he didn't believe in God didn't mean that he couldn't believe in soul mates.

With all of the cases they had come across, they hadn't heard of anything to do with any more psychic kids that the yellow-eyed demon had created, but the more they learned about them, the more Dean worried about Sammy. Had Dean not been there for him, his sweet puppy-eyed little brother could have ended up just like some of those other kids, deranged and using his powers to hurt people.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Sam asked from behind his computer.

Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts, “Nothin', just that...Dad was no saint, and the way we were raised...” he shook his head again, “but you turned out okay, despite everything. You're not some raving psycho, making people walk in front of buses and that kind of shit.”

Sam seemed to consider that for a moment before responding, “You're right, and who knows, maybe growing up knowing about this kind of stuff helped keep me sane; made it less of a shock.”

“You've got a point.” Dean clapped his hands, changing the mood as well as the subject, “Alright, well, we know what we're looking for now, and where to look for it.”

Sam nodded in agreement, “Djinns. They like old, damp, dark places. Caves, sewers...abandoned warehouses maybe.”

“I saw one of those just outside town. You see what else you can find, I'll go check it out.”

Sam looked like he was going to argue but decided against it; instead, he nodded his head, his lips in a thin line. Dean flashed him his most confident smile and Sam shook his head, turning away, but not before Dean could catch his responding grin.

Dean reached across the table, ruffling Sammy’s hair before being swatted way.

He stood, gripping Dean's hand tight, “Just, don't do anything stupid.”

Dean scoffed, “Me? Do something stupid? It's like you don't know me at all.”

“Jerk,” Sam smirked at him.

“Bitch,” Dean couldn't help but smile as he leaned in, pressing their lips together for the thousandth time.

Their kiss was short, but filled with every insecurity and every promise they had for each other. Dean pulled away first, pressing their foreheads together.

“I'm gonna go check out that warehouse.”

“You have the lamb's blood?”

Dean nodded, “Jar full of it already in the car, and a silver blade,” he added before Sam could ask.

Sam nodded, but he still didn't look happy about Dean going in alone. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, Dean could still see the worry swirling in the cacophony of colors.

Dean put on his cockiest grin, “Oh, come on Sammy. When have I ever let some dick Djinn get the drop on me?” Sam made a face like he was about to remind Dean that this was their first time hunting one, but Dean stopped him, “Exactly, so don't worry and do some more digging on where this thing might be if he's not at the warehouse. The sooner we find those kids, the better.”

Dean watched as Sam's resolve settled on his brow then clamped a hand down on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly before turning to gather his things and leave. Sam watched as he shrugged his arms into his well-worn leather jacket. Dean flashed another grin and a wink to his overly concerned baby brother, then walked out the door.

****

Dean gasped for air, hands tied above his head making it even harder to breathe. Sammy was cradling his head and calling his name.

“Hey, wake up. Wake up, dammit!”

Dean groaned, testing out his voice, not knowing how long he’d been out for. His eyes opened and he tried to focus on Sam.

Sam’s face lit up, “Hey, hey.”

Dean tried to smirk but he still wasn’t able to move his face much, “Ah...Auntie Em, there’s no place like home.”

Relief spread across Sammy’s face and he exhaled, “Thank God. I thought I lost you for a second.”

“You almost did.”

“Oh God,” Sammy reached for Dean’s neck and removed the needle that had been draining his blood. “Let’s get you down.”

Sam raised the hand that was carrying his silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood to cut the ropes that had Dean suspended. Dean was equal parts relieved to be back here with his brother, and disappointed that his plan to escape the dreamworld had worked.

Just as the first rope was cut through, Dean looked over Sammy’s shoulder and saw a pair of glowing eyes. Just in time, he was able to warn Sam, who turned around and started swinging his blade. The Djinn fought back as Dean struggled to free himself the rest of the way. The Djinn got Sam by the throat and made him drop the knife before throwing Sam onto the stairs where there was a sickening crunch as Sam’s head made contact. Dean just was able to break the ropes the rest of the way and make it to the knife to stab the Djinn in the back before it was able to put Sammy under with its glowing, Dreamweaver hand.

Dean stepped over the lifeless body of the Djinn and helped his brother up, checking his head to make sure there was no blood. Once he was sure that Sammy was in one piece, they set the Djinn on fire, just to be sure, and drove back to their crappy hotel after putting in an anonymous tip for paramedics to come help the surviving girl there. Sam let Dean shower alone, giving him his space to sort through everything that had happened. When he got out, he walked over and sat on the bed, towel snug around his waist.

Sam joined him, his brow furrowed. “You alright? I understand if you-”

“You should have seen it Sammy, our life.” He cut his eyes to look at his brother who smiled at him reassuringly. “You were so happy. We both were. We _all_ were, Mom too.”

Sammy put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed, “I'm glad you dug yourself out, Dean. Most people wouldn't have the strength, would have just stayed.”

“I know. But I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad... all I can think about is how much this job's cost us. We've lost so much. We've... sacrificed so much.” Dean had to struggle not to tear up.

“But people are alive because of you.” Sam’s voice cracked with emotion, “It's worth it, Dean. It is. It's not fair, and...you know, it hurts like hell, but...it's worth it.”

Dean tried to smile back, then he cleared his throat, “Did I tell you? We weren’t even brothers.”

“What? No.”

“Yeah, apparently we met in middle school and haven’t been apart since. Bought a big house together. Man, Sammy, you should have seen that shower.” Dean shook his head, trying to forget. He laughed, “You were a bottom.”

“Wow,” he laughed, but he was still eyeing him wearily, “You know, none of that was real,” he paused and tilted his head to the side, “I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy?”

“It wasn't. Was just a wish. I wished for mom to live. That mom never died, that we could,” Dean stopped, taking in a shaky breath, “that we could be together...like really together.”

“So Mom was alive, and we weren’t brothers...and I was a bottom?” Sam tried to hold back his laugh, his hand moving down Dean’s shoulder, tracing down his spine, stopping when he reached the towel at the top of his ass.

“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat again, “that pretty much sums it up.”

Sam’s lip curled up, that left dimple making its appearance, “Well, it may not be perfect, but...I’m glad we’re…”

“Yeah, me too.”

Sam leaned into Dean then and gently pressed their lips together. Dean had to resist the urge to grab Sammy’s head and pull him in tighter. He seemed to feel what Dean wanted regardless and pushed him back onto the bed, covering his practically naked body with his still clothed one; the scratchiness of his stiff shirt was rough on Dean’s nipples, adding another layer of sensation to his already overstimulated senses.

Sam ended up naked under the covers with him, but they didn’t have sex that night, content just to be in each other’s arms and breathe each other’s air. When Dean woke the following morning Sam was spooned up behind him with his arm over his side, hand slowly caressing his morning wood. Dean sighed and felt Sammy smile into his neck.

“Mornin’, De.”

Dean’s dick twitched and Sam’s grin widened. “Morning, Sammy.”

Dean tried to stretch, but his brother’s arms held him firmly in place. Dean’s heart raced and he managed to arch his back, pressing his ass into his baby brother’s swelling erection. Sammy growled into Dean’s ear, his hand wrapping tightly around Dean’s cock, stroking him to full hardness. Dean felt Sam shift, then hot breath on his ear, right before the tender flesh was caught between teeth.

Dean hummed in satisfaction at all the attention that was being given to him. His sleep addled brain trying to catch up with the rest of his body. Dean tried to reach between them and offer Sammy some of the same satisfaction, but Sam let go of him and smacked his hand away.

“Wanna feel you, De.”

“But-”

“Never done that before, not with anyone.”

Dean’s heart fluttered and he felt his dick flop on his own stomach. “Sammy…”

“Ready for you, De. Been thinking about it all morning,” Sam nipped at Dean’s ear again.

_This kid is gonna kill me_. “You sure, Sammy?”

“Always sure about you, big brother.”

There was no arguing with that. Sam let Dean roll over this time, grabbing his head with his giant hands and bringing their mouths together, morning breath be damned. When they pulled away to catch their breaths, Sam leaned over Dean and grabbed their bottle of lube from the night stand. He grabbed Dean’s hand and dribbled lube over his fingers, using his own to distribute it evenly before leading Dean’s slick hand behind him. Leaving Dean to find the rest of the way on his own, Sam used his hand to hold himself more open for his big brother.

Dean felt the rush of something new, as well as the feeling that they wouldn’t ever be able to go back from what they were about to do, what Sammy was asking him to do. _More like making me do_. There was a glint of something unreadable in Sam’s eye, maybe he was nervous or unsure of what he was doing.

Dean gently felt his way around Sam’s taut entrance, letting Sam get used to feeling something there. The last thing he wanted was to startle him and hurt him. Sam’s breath hitched when Dean started to apply pressure, and the sound made Dean’s blood boil. This wasn’t something he typically enjoyed, but Sam had seemed so sure and was practically making him do this, he was damned and determined to make his baby brother feel just as good as he does when Sammy’s the one doing the fucking.

Sam kept nipping at Dean’s neck, his earlobes, his shoulders, wherever he can get his mouth without making it difficult for Dean to continue his torturous prepping of Sam’s impatient ass. The second Dean let his finger slip though that tight ring of muscle, Sam’s body practically pulled him in as deep as he could go. It didn’t take very long at all before Sam was bottoming out on Dean’s three fingers, begging for more. Dean was hard as steel when Sam grabbed the lube again and slicked him up, insisting that he was more than ready.

“How d’ya want me, De?”

That simple question coming from his sweet baby brother’s sinful mouth was enough to make Dean come right then and there; he had to grip the base of his cock in order to fight the urge. Dean gave it some thought, certain positions were better feeling than others, and some more comfortable. In the end he just rolled on top of Sam, made sure his head was propped comfortably on his pillow then kissed him hard. Their mouths still connected together, Dean reached down and lined himself up, just barely applying pressure at Sammy’s welcoming hole.

Dean continued kissing Sam, giving his mind something else to focus on other than the intrusion he was making. He pressed his hips into Sammy’s, feeling the tight push of his rim against his bulging head. Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to reign himself in.

Sam was pushing his hips down and Dean was having to hold himself steady; he never knew what a cock slut his baby brother might have been after all. With all that anger and rage boiling down inside him, maybe he thinks this might be a way to ease some of that pent up tension, let someone else take control.

Sam moaned and grabbed at Dean’s shoulders, “Just fuck me, _big brother_.” Sammy’s eyes bored into Dean’s very soul, catching him off guard with the ferocity behind it, “Need you.” Sam began pulling at his back, his shoulders, then lower, grabbing him by the ass so that he could rock himself down on his cock all on his own, _so much for him not being in control_. Between the begging and his incessant searching hips and soaked hole partially worked open; Dean’s only a man after all. He clenched his jaw tight, looked directly into Sammy’s desperately dark kaleidoscope eyes and shoved in, slowly, but he didn’t stop until his pubes tickled Sammy’s taint. He stayed seated in his baby brother’s ass until he could get his breathing under control. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to come like a virgin at a Prom themed orgy, he started to pull out and push back in, just shallow thrusts, each one a little deeper than the one before it; working Sammy into a sweat, he asked for this, Dean’s gonna make sure his baby brother has a great time for his first time, really build him up and let him soar. He only stayed fully seated until Sammy started to squirm and get desperate. He’d never seen his baby brother have to beg for anything, it’s not like this wasn’t new for Dean too.

Once he was able to pull all the way out and thrust all the way back in with little resistance, he set a brutal pace. Hands on Sam’s shoulders to keep him steady, toes digging into the mattress for leverage, sweat dripping from all over his body, all over Sammy’s body. His baby brother’s tanned, lithe, stretched out body getting soaked with his own sweat and dripped on all over by Dean’s.

Sammy’s hair was half fanned out on the pillow behind him, and half plastered to his face. He was too far gone to try to do anything about it himself, and Dean needed to see those eyes, see how he was falling apart on his big brother’s dick.

Once Dean set his rhythm, Sam decided to make it a show, hands running all over Dean’s body, canting his hips whenever he was able, positioning his legs to have Dean drive into a different, deeper spot; he was unable to help himself from spewing the most deliciously pornographic things Dean thought that he’d ever heard. Seriously, his baby brother could get a writer’s credit in porn and make a killing.

“De, don’t stop. Keep...harder, De. Faster...Don’t be scared, De, break me! Love you so much, wreck my ass, De. So thick...not gonna be able to...walk, yes!”

Dean had to block out every blissfully sinful thing that was dripping out of Sammy’s wicked mouth, just so he could keep his focus on his thrusts and trying to not come right away with the exceptionally wrecked sound of his giant of a baby brother’s voice. He was close, he could feel his balls getting tighter, and his stomach muscles going to town, and, by the look on Sammy’s face, if Dean would just blow some hot air over his ignored, leaking cock, than Sammy wouldn’t be able to hold himself back either.

Dean laced the fingers of one hand through Sammy’s long locks as the others wrapped around his cock and he began to stroke him at the same pace that he was fucking into him. After a few more thrust/stroke combinations, he raised his eyes to meet his brother’s and, before he could feel it coming, both of their orgasms ripped through them. Dean could feel Sammy’s tight heat constricting him as they both seized and spurted their release. They kissed as they rode out the aftershocks of their copulatory bliss, lips and tongues lazily seeking out the other’s, hands sliding over their sweat-slick skin.

Sam held Dean still when he moved to pull himself out.

“No, not yet.” Sammy’s voice was a hoarse whisper in his ear.

Dean thought that maybe he’d died, and that this was his real Heaven. His baby brother so needy for him, both of them in a complete sex haze and happy to stay that way as long as possible. Dean still hadn’t caught his breath and was more than happy to oblige Sammy’s plea. He moved his hand to swipe the sweat-matted hair from Sammy’s forehead so that he could better look into his eyes. After everything they’d been through together, their entire lives, they’d never really needed words; one look and both knew what the other was thinking, what the plan was, what to do next, what they were having for dinner, everything.

Dean was taken aback by the sheer magnitude of what he was being told now. He could see their entire lives; past, present, and future. The love that was boring into him was beyond anything Dean had ever felt before, the sort of all encompassing, jump-in-front-of-a-train-for-you kind of love. The power of it knocked what was left of Dean’s breath away.

He had no clue what Sam was seeing in him at the moment, but whatever it was made his lips twitch into a grin, his insatiable left dimple dipping in. Dean finally gave into his impulse and bent down to kiss that dimple, which made Sammy laugh, which in turn made Dean pepper the rest of his gorgeous baby brother’s face with kisses until Sammy was trying to push him off.

Dean’s heart had never felt so light, he laughed, an honest to God full and hearty laugh. Sam let him when he rolled to his side and off of him, pulling them apart from each other, aside from Dean leaving his head on Sammy’s chest and one arm draped across his waist. He breathed in deeply, the fact that it smelled like sex and little brother sweat didn’t even leaden his buoyancy. Dean was living the dream and nothing could bring him down.

****

They had been driving all day, on their way to visit Bobby, it had been weeks of non-stop cases, so they were going to take a few days off; they’d earned it. They were still a few hours out from Sioux Falls and Dean was starving. There had been a sign for a small diner about a mile back, so when Dean saw the sign up the road he told Sammy that he was going to run in and grab some food really quick and they’d eat on the road.

Dean handed Sammy a wad of dollar bills, “Hey, don't forget the extra onions this time, huh?”

Sammy gives him his signature bitchface, “Dude, I'm the one who’s gonna have to ride in the car with your extra onions.”

Dean just grinned at him, and he turned to get out of the car with a sigh.

Before he could shut the door however, Dean remembered, “Hey, see if they've got any pie.” Sam glared at him again then shut the car door, “Bring me some pie!” he called again through the closed window, then added to himself, “I love me some pie.”

Dean cranked the stereo up as he watched Sam walk into the diner. Suddenly the radio started to static, he tapped on it in hopes of resetting it, but then all the lights flickered in and outside the diner and when Dean looked he saw no one there anymore. He had just been looking at his brother talking to a waitress, and now there was no one there. Without a thought, he raced to the door. Once he got there, he opened the door, only to find a man whose throat had been slit, bleeding out over his dinner. He immediately drew his gun and called out for his brother. As he looked around, he found the grill still burning, its operator and the waitress also lifeless behind the counter. In an effort to leave no stone unturned, he checked the back, going as far to call for Sam out the back door. As the door was closing, he noticed that there was sulfur on the window trim. He ran out the way he had come, still stubbornly calling Sam’s name. When he was only greeted with silence, he knew that the yellow-eyed demon had taken his baby brother.

****

Bobby pointed to his map on the hood of Dean’s Baby, “This is it. All demonic signs and omens over the past month.”

Dean blankly wondered if he was missing something, “Are you joking? There's nothing here.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, come on, there's gotta be something. What about the normal, low-level stuff? You know, exorcisms, that kind of thing.”

Bobby was trying hard not to have sympathy in his eyes as he looked Dean in the eye, “That's what I'm telling you: there's nothing. It's completely quiet.”

Dean felt more helpless than ever, “Well, how are we supposed to look for Sam? What, do we just close our eyes and point?”

One week. Seven days. One hundred and seventy-six hours since he’d walked into that diner. One entire fucking week and there was still no sign of Sam. Him and Bobby had been searching tirelessly to find him. There were no demonic signs; no cattle deaths, no freak lightning storms, no nothing. _What the actual fuck?_ Years of signs and omens and now nothing; now, when it matters the most...just, nothing.

Dean had a headache, probably from a lack of sleep and nourishment. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate, and hadn’t slept more than fifteen minutes at a time whenever he got caught off guard and passed out while sitting down doing research. He tried to stay on his feet, keep moving, keep doing something besides feeling like his whole life had come to a screeching halt.

Dean had his palms flat on Baby, trying to ground himself, when he felt his headache spike, it was suddenly unbearable. He scrunched his face and raised his palm to his forehead, trying to alleviate the pressure; it didn’t help. He tried to shake it off, which only helped for a fraction of a second, then the pain spiked even worse than before. Dean pressed the heels of both his hands into his forehead, unable to stop the inexplicable sharp throbbing. He saw an image of a bell flash in his mind, like it had been shoved in against his will. He couldn’t be sure, but it was like he was having one of Sammy’s psychic visions. _Inconceivable_.

Dean tried to breathe deep as the throbbing ebbed, leaning even more of his weight onto Baby.

“What was that?”

Dean was still out of breath, “I don't know. A headache?”

Bobby couldn’t mask the concern in his voice, “You get headaches like that a lot?”

“No. Must be the stress.” He laughs, like that’s a strange state for him to be in, then gets serious. “I could have sworn I saw something.”

“What do you mean? Like a vision? Like what Sam gets?” Dean could hear the gears turning in Bobby’s head.

“What? No!” If there was one thing Dean was certain of was the fact that there was definitely nothing special about him, he's not like Sammy.

“I'm just saying,” Bobby defended himself.

Dean started to panic, “Come on, I'm not some psychic.”

Without warning, the pain was back and Dean was almost taken to his knees from it, so much more powerful than before, which he didn’t think was possible. He got another image slammed into his mind, it’s the same bell and then there’s a flash of Sammy standing by the bell. _What the fuck?_

“Dean? Dean! Are you with me?” Bobby ran around Baby to keep Dean from collapsing.

Just like that, the pain was gone and Dean could almost breathe again, “Yeah, I think so. I saw Sam. I saw him, Bobby.”

“It _was_ a vision.”

“Yeah. I don't know how, but yeah,” Dean was able to stand up a little on his own, “Whew. That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels.”

Bobby was squinting at him now, trying to figure out exactly what was going on, “What else did you see?”

Dean tried to focus, “Uh… there was a bell.”

“What kind of bell?”

Dean was still reeling from the mental probing he had just received, “Like a big bell with some kind of engraving on it, I don't know.”

“Engraving?”

“Yeah.”

Bobby got a look in his eye like what he was hearing was too good to be true, “Was it a tree? Like, an oak tree?”

Dean was stunned, “Yeah, exactly.”

“I know where Sam is.”

They were on the road in less than an hour, armed to the teeth with everything they could think of that would help them fight off whatever was keeping Sammy in Cold Oak, South Dakota. They were a few hours away, but Dean had his foot through the floorboard, pushing Baby just as fast as she could go. He was going to kill that sonofabitch demon for taking his little brother from him if it was the last thing he did.

****

There weren’t any drivable roads to the town itself, so that had to park Baby about a mile away and trek the rest of the way on foot. Dean couldn’t will himself to walk any faster without running; his need to get to Sammy as quickly as possible at odds with his need to not wear himself out before he even got to the town to fight whatever it would be he would have to face when he got there.

Only one hundred more yards. Fifty yards, he could see the streets and the buildings, and he could hear someone fighting.

“Sammy!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, both a call for his brother and a warning to whatever he was up against.

He picked up his pace, rounding a corner just in time to see Sammy knock a guy out. The man was in Army fatigues and had obviously been the one Sammy was fighting with. Dean wondered how long he had been possessed for. Sammy didn’t look up as he reached behind him for what looked to Dean like a broken off piece of machinery and raised his arm over the unconscious man.

“Sammy?” Dean breathed, not believing what he was seeing, Bobby coming to a standstill beside him.

“Dean.” There was a hardness to Sam’s voice that he had hardly ever heard before; an unbridled rage clear in his eyes. Before he could speak again, Sam’s arm arched down in a graceful swoop and damn near took they guys head clean off, blood splattering his face and body.

“Sammy!” Dean broke into a run, racing to his blood-soaked baby brother.

“Dean, you-” whatever Sam was about to say was knocked out of him by the force of Dean’s embrace.

“I’m here, Sammy.” He let his eyes and hands roam over Sam’s body, inspecting for wounds, any sort of damage that may have been caused, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathed out, “I’m fine.” He smirked, but there was no hint of pleasure in it.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

****

On the way back to Bobby’s, Sam told them all about what had happened. How the yellow-eyed demon had been placing all of his “children” in that town to battle it out; last man standing style. Ava had been there the entire time she was missing, winning round after round. Dean felt like Sam was leaving something out. The way he talked around how she had been able to go undefeated for so long with only having dreams of future events. Dean figured he was missing a huge chunk of the real story.

Jake, the guy that Dean and Bobby watched Sam kill, had had super strength and was in Afghanistan when he had been taken by yellow-eyes, so he _wasn't_ a demon. Andy, another psychic kid they had met on the road, had been killed by Ava, but Sam had been vague about the details, something about her letting a demon into their base camp. The Army guy, Jake, had snapped her neck right in front of Sam’s eyes.

Dean couldn’t imagine what that all must have been like for him. Going through all that, being harassed in his sleep by yellow-eyes, not knowing who to trust; no wonder he went all Norman Bates on that guy. It was more concerning to Dean that Sam seemed to be missing time. He thought that he was only gone for a couple of days, he couldn’t believe Dean that it had been over a week. Even more concerning than that was that Sam didn’t seem to be phased by any of it. Not killing that guy, not losing Ava or Andy, not losing time, not even being dumped there by the demon in the first place. He seemed eerily calm about all of it as he recanted his story.

Exhausted from everything that had happened they decided to stop at a motel instead of driving through the night to get back to Bobby’s. Luckily, they had two rooms available, so Bobby wouldn’t have to share a room with them with “god knows what they’d get up to, when [he] went to sleep.” Dean couldn’t honestly say that he hadn’t thought about it, just being close to Sammy always made him think of being _closer_ to Sammy; he just had this feeling he couldn’t shake, something was off.

Dean was the first one into the room, and he jumped, spinning around as the door slammed shut behind Sam. He was nowhere near the door to have just shut it. Dean cocked his head and Sam just grinned at him like he had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean’s blood ran cold.

“I learned a lot over the last week.” Sam’s voice was calculating.

Dean tried to laugh it off, “Oh yeah?” He set his duffel by the dresser and squared his shoulders, spine stiff as a board.

“Yeah, right before Jake snapped Ava’s neck, she was telling me about how her powers magnified exponentially after she quit fighting them. How giving into it opened so many more doors for her.”

“Sounds like she figured out what she had to do to stay alive, but what’s that got to do with your little Jean Grey thing just now?”

“Just a little something I picked up, and that’s not all I can do either.” Sam was looking at Dean like a fox would look at a rabbit.

“Yeah,” Dean played for time while he tried to figure out if Sam was possessed somehow, “you been getting more visions? You got the winning lotto numbers this week?” He tried unsuccessfully to laugh at his own lame joke, “These credit card scams are getting old.”

“No, no more visions. Something better.”

“Not much better than winning lotto numbers, Sammy.”

As soon as Dean finished what he was saying his belt came undone as well as the button and zipper of his jeans. He flew back, knocking the back of his thighs against the dresser, almost knocking the TV into the floor.

“What the fuck?!”

“I’ve thought about what I can do with these powers Dean.” Sam took a step toward him and the buttons popped off of his button up, bursting open to expose his t-shirt clad chest. “Telekinesis is just the tip of the iceberg. Ava could control the demons. Do you know what that means for us, Dean? What I could do, what _we_ could do?” Another step forward and Dean’s outer layers were torn from his arms. “We could _use them_ to fight the monsters. No more late night stakeouts, no more dingy motel rooms with cum-stained mattresses and bunny-eared TVs.” He took another step and gestured to the room around them, and Dean’s pants fell to the ground.

“Aww, come on Sammy.” Dean’s brain was working overtime trying to figure out what he needed to do to get control of the situation, “It’s not all that bad.”

Sam grunted out a harsh laugh, “Our whole lives have been spent in shitholes like this. Don’t you ever want more Dean? Wouldn’t you like to sleep in a bed that didn’t make you more sore than you already were, on a comfy pillow without a knife and your gun tucked under it?” Sam was about three steps away from him now.

“That’s the job, Sam.” Dean looked him straight it the eye. “It’s the only thing I know, it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Sam’s lip curled, exposing a more menacing looking right dimple, his eyes trailing over Dean’s mostly exposed body, “It’s not the only thing you’re good at.”

Dean felt his shirt start to ride up and his boxers start to slide down. He got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t fight it. He tried to stay calm and not hide or cringe away from Sam when he finally bridged the gap between them and had removed all of his clothes, having him physically step out of his boots and pants.

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed Dean’s head and leaned in for a kiss. Dean tried to forget about the situation he was in and pretend like he got his Sammy back and they’re actually reuniting. He didn’t fight it when Sam led him over to the bed, nor when he pulled Dean to the edge of the bed and threw his legs over his shoulders to settle his head in between them. Once Sam’s mouth was on him, it was a little bit easier to pretend. Pretend that the roughness of his mouth was excitement, the nip of his teeth was desperation, the bruising of his fingertips was love.

Sam worked him open in no time, Dean’s body conditioned from a lifetime of giving Sammy whatever he wanted. As soon as he could take three fingers to the knuckle and then some, which Dean assumed was another part of Sam’s developing powers he was testing out, Sam flipped him onto his stomach without touching him. There was a brief moment, when Dean could hear Sam shedding his own clothes, that Dean could clear his head. _This isn’t Sammy, I’ve lost my baby brother_ , but before he could expound on that thought Sam covered his body with his own burning hot one, chest to back as he nipped at his ear, his leaking cock nudging at his presented ass.

There’s no fanfare when Sam lines up and sinks into Dean, no whispered reassurances, no declarations of admiration, not even an ill intentioned “good boy;” just Sam stretching him out on his cock and biting at his neck. Dean hoped that Sam would be quick and rough, get it over with. Instead, Sam took his time taking him apart, piece by piece.

Sam was holding himself up over Dean’s back, but Dean could still feel pressure and friction on his nipples. If he had to be honest with himself, Dean would say that it was exhilarating, what Sam was able to do to him like this. He felt like Sam was in him, on him, over him, under him, everywhere, all at once. It was too much, and, before he knew what was happening, he was spurting his release, physically untouched, all over the old, itchy comforter.

“Knew you’d like it like this, De,” Sam growled in his ear as he sped up his thrusting.

Dean tried to do what he could to go ahead and get this over with, he moaned when his prostate was stroked, he squeezed as tight as he could around Sam, trying to milk him dry. Finally, Sam shoved himself in as deep as he could and went rigid as his cock swelled and filled him to the brim.

After Sam grunted and ground his way through his aftershocks, he pulled out of Dean right away and went to the bathroom. He stuck his head out long enough to toss Dean a dry washcloth, which he gingerly used to clean himself up with before tossing it back to the floor. Not knowing what else he could do, Dean just laid there and waited for Sam to come back. He folded down the sheets and tucked himself under, facing the bathroom; he couldn’t turn his back on this new Sam.

Sam came out of the bathroom, a contented look on his face and the lights went out as he crawled under the covers in front of Dean. He snuggled up to him, making himself the little spoon, grabbing Dean’s arm to drape over his middle. _‘You have to watch out for me,’_ he heard Sam’s voice again in his head, _‘If I ever become something that I’m not...you have to kill me.’_ Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of that night. _‘Promise me.’_

Sam drifted off to sleep without a word, his breaths evening out and his body going lax beneath Dean’s arm. There was no way Dean was going to be getting any sleep any time soon. He kept replaying Sam’s words from earlier in his head on loop, _‘We can_ use them _to fight the monsters.’_ Part of him wanted to trust that Sam knew what he was talking about, that he would be able to control his quickly developing powers, and that he wasn’t seriously considering working with demons. However, despite the contrition on his face and the sincerity in his voice, that cold-hearted look in his eyes said otherwise.

Dean knew what he had to do, there was no sense in trying to talk himself out of it, or try to justify Sam’s actions. Sammy would have never said or done any of those things. Dean had a promise to keep, a promise made to his desperate baby brother to keep him from becoming a monster.

Moving as slowly as possible, Dean shifted himself behind Sam, removing his arm from under Sam’s, making it so that he could move his arm further up Sam’s body. Sam barely stirred, just enough to nuzzle his face a little further into his pillow. Dean’s chest tightened and he blinked away unshed tears. Don’t ask that of me, he’d replied. Dean brought his hand up to Sam’s throat, lightly placing his hand under his chin, and let it rest there.

After a few moments, making sure that Sam was still sleeping, he took in a deep breath and whispered, “I promise,” into his baby brother’s hair as he gripped him tight. _Snap_.

****

Dean keeps losing his nerve as he piles the pallets and logs and branches that would make his baby brother’s funeral pyre. _‘I need you to watch out for me.’_ Snap, toss, arrange. _‘You’re the only one who can do it.’_ Hoist, lower, arrange. _‘Dean please, you have to promise me.’_ Snap. Dean hurdles that branch into the meadow beyond the pyre.

“Goddammit!” His throat is raw from lack of use and unshed tears as he falls to his knees, unable to continue.

He digs his fingers into the dirt as he tries to catch his breath, reign himself in. After what seems like years, his body stops shaking, he stands and finishes unloading the rest of the pallets. He arranges them into a waist high altar, a pyre fit for a king, worthy of his baby brother.

Bobby helps Dean wrap up his lifeless baby brother in linens to prepare him for his ceremony. Despite everything that had happened in the last week, Sammy- Sam still deserves a Hunter’s funeral. None of what happened to him was his fault, Sam did nothing to bring this on himself; none of this ever should have happened. _Goddamn fucking yellow-eyed devil demon_.

The sun is shining high in the sky; it's warm, but the breeze makes it tolerable. The tops of the trees sway, and a murder of crows fly high overhead. It's a perfect day, or it would have been.

Dean stands there in the clearing, feeling nothing; feeling less than nothing, numb. His eyes never leave the fire, he watches humorlessly as the tiny pieces of linen spark off to do their own burning dance on the breeze; but they never leave the center of the pyre. His eyes have long since dried up, and he’s not sure if he is even capable of speaking, but he knows he has to say something, anything.

“Dammit Sammy. It was never supposed to end this way,” the words grate their way out of his vice-like throat, Dean barely recognizing his own voice. He thought about all the things he would never get to talk to Sam about, everything that went unsaid between them, even after coming clean about the most important things.

Dean can’t bring himself to say anything else, he stands there motionless, not saying a word while Bobby said his goodbyes. He stays there with him for what feels like forever before squeezing his shoulder and telling him that he would know where to find him, when he was ready. If _I’m ever ready_. Dean watches as the wood begins to char and the smoke thickens; he knows what he needs to say, it’s just a matter of being able to say it.

He steals his nerves and just starts talking, “You know, when we were little, you couldn't have been more than five...you just started asking questions,” he smiles a little to himself with the memory of his sweet, innocent, curious baby brother, “How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, ‘Quit asking, Sammy,” he sighs, and it sounds a little like a laugh, “‘Man, you don't want to know.’” He pauses again, “I just wanted you to be a kid...just for a little while longer,” he’s having to work to control his voice now, he needs to get this out, just to say it out loud, just this once. “I always tried to protect you. Keep you safe. Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know?” _You were my baby brother_. Dean looks down, away from the fire, asking a question that would never be answered.

Just like that his anger is back, “It's like I had one job...I had one job,” his voice cut down to a whisper, “and I screwed it up. I blew it.” His breath hitches and his lip jerks as he tries to reign in his self hatred, his resentment, his unyielding pain, _only one more thing to say_ , “And for that, I'm sorry.” He blinks back the wetness in his eyes, and he's surprised by the tears that start to spill out, he quickly wipes them off of his face with a shaky hand. “I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I’ve- how can I- how am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do, Sammy? God.” His lip won’t stop quivering as he tries to take in a breath that does nothing to settle his nerves. “What am I supposed to do?” His anger returns again as he takes a step closer to the fire and screams into the flames, “ _What am I supposed to do?!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Some conversations taken from transcripts of the actual episodes, creative license with narration and some alterations done by me.  
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


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